


i could make you bleed (the splinter by splinter remix)

by Scytale



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Nightmares, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possibly Unrequited Love, Surreal, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26726764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scytale/pseuds/Scytale
Summary: As Mytho changes into a prince who can love ravens, Kraehe begins to dream.
Relationships: Mytho/Rue (Princess Tutu)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	i could make you bleed (the splinter by splinter remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theultimateburrito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theultimateburrito/gifts).
  * Inspired by [splinter by splinter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843523) by [theultimateburrito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theultimateburrito/pseuds/theultimateburrito). 



> This is Choose Not to Warn because it contains ballet-typical character death in dream sequences.

Kraehe cups the prince's heart shard in her palms; the prince's feeling of love is so light, she thinks, holding it over the bowl.

"Go on," her father says, stirring impatiently. "Dip it into my blood."

He's promised her that if the prince's heart shard is soaked into raven's blood, then the prince will be hers. All she has to do is let the heart shard fall.

She hesitates.

"Will this hurt him?" Kraehe asks.

A low, deep rumble emerges from her father, and the ground shakes. At first, her heart skips at the thought that he's entering another of his rages, but then she realizes that he's shaking with laughter.

"What a stupid question, daughter," he says, when he finally stops laughing. "Why would I want to hurt my future son-in-law?"

Kraehe bites her lip. "It's just that it hurt when you gave me your blood to drink," she says.

Even now, she still remembers the acrid taste of the blood her father gave her to drink when she was a child, how it burned at her tongue and her throat and left her stomach roiling. She would spend hours curled up within her father's prison, unable to move from the pain.

That happened even though she is her father's daughter. What would her father's blood do to the prince, who is human?

Her father's talons crash down on the floor in front of her. Kraehe flinches and takes a step back, but he doesn't seem like he wants to hurt her this time.

"My blood hurt you because you're weak," he says scornfully, and she flinches. "If the prince is strong, then my blood won't hurt him at all."

That makes it sound as though this might hurt Mytho after all.

Her father gives another rumble. "Kraehe," he says, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness above. His voice turns coaxing and sweet. "Do you want the prince's love or not, Kraehe? This is the only way he'll ever be able to love a raven like you."

She doesn't want to give the prince up to Princess Tutu.

Kraehe parts her hands, and the heart shard sinks into the bowl. When the blood has clouded the shard completely, she fishes it out and dries it. At first, it's a dull, angry red, but the color lightens back to its normal shade. Princess Tutu won't be able to tell the difference.

"Well done," her father says. "Now go deliver it to Princess Tutu, my dear daughter."

Kraehe takes her place on the stage Drosselmeyer prepared. Princess Tutu takes the shard from her, suspecting nothing. It happens just as she and her father planned, and she should be happy, but it hurts to see Mytho turn away from her, choosing Tutu even though Kraehe danced all the feelings in her heart for him. It hurts to be cast aside. For a while, when Mytho's feeling of love danced with her, when she'd held its hand in hers, she'd hoped that Mytho would choose her for herself.

At school, she goes back to pretending to be just a human girl. She and Mytho only dance together in class, and dancing with him feels different now that he's chosen another princess. Outside of class, she barely seems him; Fakir keeps a watchful eye on Mytho, preventing her from getting too close. Fakir is so much more difficult to deal with now that he's decided to help Princess Tutu. He seems to be trying to make up for years of inaction with his vigilance.

Kraehe bides her time. Mytho will be hers. Her father promised.

One day, Mytho is waiting for her as she walks out from class.

"Hello, Kraehe," he says.

Students pass them, but Mytho looks at her as if she's the only person in the world.

"Hello, my prince," she says, taking his hand.

He smiles at her, his eyes shadowed by her father's blood, and she smiles back, secure in the knowledge that her prince has returned to her.

* * *

As one, the court turns to look at her. At first, their faces seem to be those of birds—nightjars and mockingbirds and other birds of the night, but then she realizes they are only humans wearing masks of feathers and papier-mache.

Rue steps into the hall, holding her father's hand. She looks over at her father and catches the hint of a benevolent smile beneath his beaked owl mask.

Around them, the walls are bone-white; the music plays, slow and almost sad. Her prince stands at the end of the hall, facing away. Her father's attendant drapes a cloak of black feathers over the prince; the prince doesn't move.

But now, their clothes match. She smiles, and the smile feels foreign upon her lips; she still isn't used to this new face. But that's all right; what matters is that she bears the face of the prince's love.

She and her father walk down the hall, and when they reach the prince, she releases her father's hand. With a flourish, she takes the prince's instead, and his fingers clasp onto hers. 

He still doesn't look at her.

But that's all right too. They will be together forevermore, and they will be happy.

* * *

Kraehe sits with Mytho beneath their tree, her hand on his thigh. The morning sunlight through the leaves dapples Mytho's face in gold and shadow; in the branches above, ravens caw. The sound reminds her of a dream she had the night before. Something about birds, though not ravens. It was a happy dream—maybe. She isn't sure.

She turns to Mytho. "Tell me you love me," she says. 

Mytho answers the way he always does. "I love you."

But she frowns. There's something different about his tone this time, something that sets her on edge. It takes her a moment to place what it is—she's never heard this from the prince before.

It's boredom. Mytho sounds bored.

She sits up. He's looked away from her, up into the branches, but now his gaze drifts back to her, lazy and amused.

"Say that again," she says. "And this time, try to sound like you mean it."

Mytho smiles. "What would you do if I didn't?"

Her eyes narrow. "What do you mean?" she manages to say at last. "If you don't..."

He's _hers_. Her hands clench at the thought that it could ever be otherwise. Above them, the ravens sense her mood and leap into flight, shrieking cacophonously.

Mytho leans closer, his smile widening. "What would you do if I didn't tell you again?" he asks.

Mytho's eyes are wide; they would look innocent if not for the bronze shadows of raven blood swirling through them. Kraehe's breath catches.

He tilts his head. "What did you think I meant, Kraehe?"

Then, a girl from the intermediate class walks past them. Smoothly, Mytho turns, his eyes focusing on her.

"That one will do," he says to himself, absently scratching at the back of his hand, and he seems to forget that Kraehe is there. 

* * *

The glow of the chandeliers cast the hall in warm gold; music and laughter sweep through the air. Rue stands on the terrace and watches the prince move restlessly among the crowd.

Her prince declines the dances that are offered to him, his eyes restlessly roving the hall. He has no desire to stay here; this is a duty forced on him, when he wishes instead to be with her.

Rue shares his wish. She presses her hands to the cold glass. If only she could go into the hall and smile at him, dance with him the way she did at the lakeside. But that's beyond her; her feet will not allow her to take those steps into the hall. The sorcerer's curse forbids her.

Be patient, she tells herself. The prince will come for her once the ball is done, and then his love will break the curse.

But even as she tells herself that, she watches the prince turn to stare in rapt awe at a woman who has just danced. He moves past the crowd, going to her, extending his hand in an invitation to dance.

The woman turns, smiling beatifically, and Rue sees her face. The woman's face is Rue's own, framed by a crystal crown more beautiful than anything Rue herself has ever worn. It's Rue's own eyes that glance at the prince, a veiled invitation in it. The prince takes her hand, and they dance, the onlookers watching them in rapture.

No, Rue thinks desperately, hammering her hands against the window, The prince promised himself to her! She screams, but that makes no sound, and the glass holds fast beneath her fists. No one even notices that she is here.

After the prince's dance, he makes the sign for love, his eyes captivated by the woman before him.

This time, when Rue screams, there is a sound—the furious keening of a wild swan. The hands she presses to the window are hands no more but white-feathered wings.

She turns and flees into the evening sky, still screaming, leaving behind the prince and his newfound princess.

The curse won't be broken. The prince is lost to her and so her hope, her chance to walk in the light and the world of humans.

* * *

It's only a dream, Kraehe tells herself. It's only natural that she would dream about princes and swans and ballet.

It's a free morning, so she heads to the studio, hoping to clear her mind. She practices until she trembles from the exertion, dripping with sweat from the leaps and the turns.

The door flings open.

"Rue!" Ahiru says, barging in. "I need to talk to you!"

Kraehe loses her concentration mid-leap and falters.

She doesn't fall, though; she might only have a human shape, but she _is_ a raven. Spreading her arms out like wings, she lands back on the soles of her feet.

"What could Princess Tutu possibly have to say to me?" Kraehe asks.

When she says Tutu's name, Ahiru glances around frantically, and Kraehe laughs. "We're alone here," she says. "No one will hear us. So you don't have to call me Rue, either."

Ahiru shakes her head. "No! I call you Rue because you're Rue!" She pauses for a moment, looking as if she's trying to regather her thoughts, and then she grabs onto Kraehe's arm. "You have to help Mytho!"

For a moment, Kraehe is too surprised to pull away. 

When she does jerk her arm away, Ahiru's eyes widen. Ahiru actually looks hurt.

"Mytho seems fine as he is," Kraehe says. "He's finally my prince again. I like him the way he is."

It's so easy to make her voice disdainful, to be the dark princess to Ahiru's light.

"No!" Ahiru says, shaking her head furiously. "Fakir says Mytho was hurting for days, and besides, Mytho wouldn't do any of the things Mytho is doing, and his heart must hurt!" She presses a hand against her own heart for emphasis, her eyes desperate. "Rue, you love Mytho, don't you? So why would you let this happen together?" Her words run together; she's working herself into a panic.

"I told you already," she says. "I'm not Rue."

Ahiru shakes her head. Her eyes are bright and defiant. "No! You are. And you're my friend, and Mytho's friend—"

"Don't be stupid," Kraehe snaps. "I'm more than just his friend. I'm his princess, and I'm not giving him back to you." She narrows her eyes. "As if you could even have him, when you can't even tell him that you love him."

Ahiru's eyes look hurt. "No, Rue," she starts to say, but Kraehe doesn't let her finish. She lifts her arms, turning in a fouette, and lets the winds and the shadows whisk her away.

Ahiru is a fool, Kraehe thinks. Just as one would expect from a princess who would sacrifice herself for a prince who can never love her. There's no reason to pay any attention to her words. Besides, what's done is done.

* * *

The waters are rising. Rue lets her crown fall, and dives into the water. She goes deep before she finally finds what she is looking for; her hands latch onto sodden feathers and then the light-boned body of a swan.

She pulls the swan back to shore with her.

The swan doesn't move, though. It doesn't change back. She weeps, cradling the swan in her arms, and the winds and the waters still.

Past the swan, she catches a glimpse of her own face in the mirror, the tear-stained face of the prince who betrayed the swan.

No, she thinks suddenly, her mind clearing.

This isn't who she is. She isn't this story's prince. And this swan is not her love.

"I am Princess Kraehe," she says fiercely. She refused to be a minor, tragic character in Drosselmeyer's story, and she won't play the part given to her in this one either. Her face blurs in the mirror, and then it is her own dark hair and red eyes she sees. Only the tear tracks on her face remain the same.

"This is just a dream," she says. She reaches out a hand and a black feather drifts into it. Its quills are razor-sharp.

She stabs herself in the heart. It's a dream, so it doesn't hurt as she digs the feather deeper, her blood dripping down and mingling with the water. 

For a moment, everything seems to freeze around her—the waters stop moving, and the winds stop.

The dream cracks and falls to pieces around her.

* * *

Kraehe has a fight with Mytho. This happens now with disturbing frequency—though she isn't sure that _fight_ is the right word for it, since it always ends up feeling so one-sided. The new Mytho knows how to hurt people, and he enjoys it. At first, it pleased Kraehe to see him with a raven's desire, since that meant he was hers. It pleases her less now that his sharp tongue is directed toward her.

It starts with Mytho making her wait for him as he seduces another girl. She knows he has to do this to bring her father a heart—but she doesn't want him to enjoy it so much. She doesn't want to see it, either, how he looks at those girls in the same way that he looks at her.

He knows that. He taunts her about it, and that hurts, but it isn't unusual. What is unusual is the black spots along his cheek that she sees before he suddenly runs from her, indentations upon his face as if something was trying to prick its way out of his skin. Ahiru's words ring in her mind. Is something happening to Mytho? Her father promised her Mytho—but her father doesn't tell her everything.

It's near sunset when she finally works up the courage to go to Mytho's room. When she opens the door, Mytho is sitting by the window, his expression serene.

She checks his face, afraid of what she will see, but his face looks the way it should. The black spots are gone.

Mytho stills when he notices where her attention is. "Is something wrong?"

Maybe she just imagined things. She desperately wants for that to be true. "About today—"

"I thought I told you to forget about that," he says flatly.

She bites her lip. His tone is so final she doesn't want to say anything more.

Or maybe she's just afraid of what he'll answer. She's never sure of what to feel around him any more.

He stands up. "I'm going out again," and she knows that she's being dismissed, that he plans to go find another heart for her father.

He doesn't wait for her answer before he walks out; she doesn't call him, either.

She's about to walk away when she suddenly notices: beside the bed, raven feathers lie on the floor like fallen leaves, and there are spots of red on the ground that look like blood.

* * *

The lake is calm, its waters dark blue shadows beneath the brilliant moon. Rue stands on the shore, watching the feathered pines in the distance. There are memories laid over hers: a prince, a betrayal, a story spinning toward its inevitable tragic end.

"I'm dreaming again," she says, her voice piercing through the silence. "This isn't real."

She holds out her hand, but before she calls another feather to her, Mytho steps out from the side and takes her hand.

"Do you still believe that any of us are real?" he asks. Beneath the moonlight, his smile is eerily serene. "We're all only puppets, in the end. Especially you and I."

.He grabs her hand and pulls her close; it might seem like the first steps of a dance, if he weren't so forceful. She stares at him.

Mytho's face becomes the beaked face of a bird; his eyes turn glassy and beady. Feathers sprout from his neck, his back, and the rest of his entire body, forcing their way out of his skin with a sick, squishing sound. His hand slips from hers, the fingers becoming wingfeathers; his arms become large, heavy wings, and his shoulders hunch at the weight of them.

She stumbles away from him, staring at him.

He tilts his head, watching her with beady eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks. His voice is still as soft and sweet as ever, and hearing it emerge from that giant beak is the worst of all. "Don't you want my heart any more?"

"No," she gasps, refusing to believe what she sees, and she takes another step back. When she holds out her hand this time, the feather falls into it, and she stabs herself again, her eyes on the raven Mytho. Mytho gurgles disappointedly, the sound more raven than human, and the world shatters around the two of them.

Rue bolts upright in her bed. She's alone, the blankets drawn up around her. The moonlight filters through the curtains; there is not even a raven watching from the trees.

It's only a dream, she tells herself, her heart hammering. It doesn't mean anything. But try as she might, the memory of it lingers, and no amount of wishing chases it away.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from "Antebellum" by Vienna Teng.
> 
> The dream sequences are mostly riffs off of Swan Lake endings:  
> \- Marrying Odile: The ending to the Royal Danish Ballet production in 2015/2016  
> \- The drowning scene: Mostly based off of the 2018 Royal Ballet.  
> And Odette at the window is from Act 3.


End file.
